The Adventure of the Seven Legends
by Marcus S. Lazarus
Summary: A spree of thefts lead Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson into an alliance with seven remarkable individuals... and a battle with a foe that none of them could have expected... a foe with a UNIQUE link to one of their allies
1. A Visit from Mycroft

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the League, Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson, or the villain; they all belong to their respective creators, and I'm just borrowing the characters for a bit

**Feedback: **The more the merrier

AN: This is a Sherlock Holmes/ LXG crossover (A crossover with my LXG series, that is; see my writer's profile for more detail), but it is written in the same manner as the Holmes stories; in other words, narrated by Watson.

AN2: Reference shall also be made in the stories to meetings Holmes and Watson have had with Mina and Jekyll; these meetings occurred in the Sherlock Holmes novels 'Sherlock Holmes Vs. Dracula' and 'Dr Jekyll and Mr Holmes', both by Loren D. Estleman (I can highly recommend both; they're highly enjoyable reads)

The Adventure of the Seven Legends

Over my many years in which I served as chronicler and assistant to Sherlock Holmes, I was privy to some of the most remarkable cases of murder, theft, and intrigue that have befuddled this world of ours.

While certain cases always stand out more in my mind than others, such as the remarkable affair of the Hound of the Baskervilles, or Holmes' seemingly fatal struggle with Professor Moriarty above the Reichenbach Falls, both Holmes and I, in one of our rare moments of agreement in looking back at past cases, are firmly convinced that our most remarkable case is this one that I now write. This is not only because of the bond that we formed with the most remarkable friendships we made whilst solving the case- the seven legends who I have chosen to name this remarkable affair after- but also because, for the first time in our long career, matters that we believed had been laid to rest in past cases returned to plague us, with nearly fatal consequences.

This particular case started one dark night in Baker Street. Holmes and I had just finished the excellent dinner prepared for us by Mrs Hudson, our long-suffering landlady, and Holmes was currently perusing the papers while I worked on the record of our most recent case. The case in question having been nearly a week ago, Holmes and I were currently trying to find various means to occupy our time, but with limited success.

Just as Holmes had turned over the last page of the paper, evidently with little success at finding something potentially interesting, Mrs Hudson appeared at the door of our room, with a piece of paper in her hand.

"A telegram for you, Mr Holmes," she said, looking at my friend.

"Thank you, Mrs Hudson," Holmes said, standing up and walking over to take the piece of paper from her. As our landlady left the room, Holmes glanced at the telegram, and raised his eyebrows in surprise at the information on it.

"What is it, Holmes?" I asked, looking at my friend in confusion. "Bad news?"

"Hardly that, Watson," Holmes replied, as he handed the telegram to me. "'Unexpected' is more the term I would use."

Taking the telegram, I read it for myself. It was short, but the contents were indeed surprising to say the least.

'Recent burglaries necessitate your involvement. Coming at once.

MYCROFT'

I looked up at Holmes in confusion.

"Mycroft, coming to you over burglaries?" I said, confused; the only three occasions where Mycroft had visited us of his own accord in the past, he had not left his circle of the Diogenes Club for anything less than a murder. True, no-one had died when he came to see us regarding the affair of the Greek Interpreter, but since that had originally come to our attention when Holmes and I had visited _him_, I did not count that affair as being quite under the same circumstances. "And what are these burglaries that require your attention."

"That is as much a mystery to you as it is to me, Watson," Holmes replied, as he indicated the newspaper he had been reading before the telegram came. "There has been nothing about thefts in the newspapers; indeed, as we both know, London has apparently suffered from a distinct lack of criminals of any kind, elaborate or simplistic in their plans and desires. However, there is the telegram to show that there is something taking place in this city, and, evidently, it is something that has even Parliament concerned, if Mycroft feels it necessary to become involved."

"Do you have any ideas?" I asked.

Holmes shook his head. "There is no data, unfortunately," he said, as he sat back in his chair and looked out the window at the London streets. "But I am puzzled at recent events in London, I must admit; those brutal murders over a month ago, for example. Do you realise that no explanation of them was ever published, and yet they ended as mysteriously as they began a few weeks ago?"

He sighed as he stared out at the city. "And I am constantly bothered by the feeling that Mycroft is aware of what is taking place, but is neglecting to tell me what it is for reasons that even I, who know him best, cannot deduce."

"Well," I put in, looking out the window to the street, "it would appear your question is about to be answered; here he comes now."

And indeed, a moment or two later, Mycroft had entered the room and was shaking hands with his brother, before he took up a seat and sat down before the fire, looking over at the two of us with a small smile that was the greatest sign of affection either of us ever got from him.

"Well then, Sherlock," he said, looking at his brother after a moment or two at rest, "I presume you wish to know more about the robberies I mentioned in my telegram?"

"Exactly," Holmes said, looking back at Mycroft with an enquiring expression. "I have been consulting the newspapers regularly for the last few days, but I have seen nothing relating to robberies in any shape or form. Would you care to explain this?"

"The reason is simple; the details were suppressed," Mycroft explained, his expression grim as he looked back at Holmes. "The thefts in question were the thefts of, shall we say, politically delicate material."

"Indeed?" Holmes asked, raising an eyebrow. "What was stolen? Treaties?"

"Worse than that, Sherlock," Mycroft said, as he looked back at his brother. "Do you recall the attacks on Britain and Germany last year, that nearly resulted in the world being plunged into a world war?"

Holmes and I merely nodded; we both remembered those times all too well. The danger from those mysterious weapons and soldiers, who seemed to owe allegiance to no side and merely sought chaos for the sake of it, had been nothing short of catastrophic; even now, not even Holmes could deduce how war had been averted.

"Then you will understand the possible ramifications that may have occurred if what I am about to tell you became public knowledge," Mycroft said, his face assuming an expression that was as close to fear as I ever saw on his face. "The burglars stole the plans for those very machines."

"What?" I said, looking at Mycroft in confusion. "But how did Britain come into possession of such things? Surely _we _were not responsible for their construction!"

"No, we were not, Doctor, I assure you," Mycroft said, looking reassuringly at me before looking back at Holmes. "However, the person responsible for their development was discovered and defeated by a group of remarkable individuals, with whom the government has worked on some occasions. Following his defeat, our agents were able to secure the plans for his machines from his fortress, and we have kept them in a secure location since then."

Noting the disapproving expressions that Holmes and I had assumed, Mycroft hastened to respond to our angry glares. "Do not misunderstand me; we were not intending to develop them for our own purposes. Our main objective was to keep them out of the hands of others; we had no desire to start a conflict with anyone desiring knowledge of how to develop the weapons for themselves."

"I see," Holmes said, in a tone that could have meant anything from acceptance to disapproval. "If these plans have been stolen, I assume there must be obvious suspects? After all, who would be aware of their existence?"

"A scant few, Sherlock," Mycroft replied. "Only myself and a few other government members even know we have come into possession of the plans in question, and none of them can be accused of treachery."

"What about the group that discovered the existence of the designer?" I asked, looking at Mycroft. "Could they be responsible?"

Mycroft shook his head. "That is impossible, Dr Watson," he said to me. "Not only can all seven of them be trusted implicitly, but they do not even know that we possessed the plans in question until I told them earlier today."

"You told them?" Holmes asked, looking over sharply at Mycroft. "And what was their response?"

"What I have come to expect from them; anger," Mycroft replied, sighing as he sat back in his chair. "They were originally recruited by a man who wanted to use their talents for his own purposes, and ever since they have had a distinct distrust of authority unless they need our assistance for some reason or another."

Holmes and I declined to comment on our opinions of that statement. We trusted Mycroft, of course, but, him aside, even since that affair with Jack the Ripper and the Freemasons in 1888, neither of us had felt comfortable with the government ourselves.

* * *

AN 3: To those who wish to know what the 'affair with Jack the Ripper and the Freemasons in 1888' was, it occurred in the 1979 movie 'Murder by Decree' starring Christopher Plummer and James Mason

* * *

"So, shall I assume that, since you felt it necessary to tell this 'group' that the plans have been stolen, they shall be conducting investigations into these thefts as well?" Holmes asked his brother.

"Correct," Mycroft said, nodding at his brother. "I have arranged a meeting tomorrow where you two shall be introduced to the group's two leaders; the rest of the group will meet you once you have decided on your investigation strategy."

Holmes did not make any comments on his feelings about working with others; evidently, he had decided that this was too important a matter to allow trivial details such as pride to get in the way of gaining help that may prove vital in solving this mystery.

"Very well," he said, looking back at his brother. "I shall take this case. However, before I agree to any meeting, I would like to at least know the name of the group that Watson and I shall be working with on this endeavour.

Mycroft nodded in consent.

"They call themselves the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, Sherlock," he said, as he stood up and began to walk towards the door that led back to the corridor. Then he stopped and turned back to look at the two of us, a small smile on his face.

"You should get along with them well; like you, they are, each in their own ways, above the human norm."


	2. An Old Acquantaince, a New Ally

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the League, Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson, or the villain; they all belong to their respective creators, and I'm just borrowing the characters for a bit

**Feedback: **The more the merrier

The Adventure of the Seven Legends

The next day, Holmes and I were in a hansom cab heading for the Diogenes Club, where Mycroft had arranged for the two of us to meet with the leaders of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen to discuss this affair. I had already attempted to inquire as to Holmes' opinion as to who the League's members could be, but Holmes had steadfastedly resisted my best efforts to do so; like with his cases, Holmes refused to start theorising without data.

Eventually, the two of us pulled up outside the British Museum- the building which, according to Mycroft, concealed the secret location where the League commonly met with Mycroft in their communications with the British Government. As we stepped out of the cab, I gave the driver the necessary money while Holmes walked up to the main entrance of the museum, to be greeted by a small man in a business suit with a small handlebar moustache.

"Mr Sherlock Holmes?" the man asked, looking at my friend inquiringly.

"Indeed," Holmes replied, before indicating me as I stepped up to join my friend. "And this is my friend and colleague Doctor Watson. I hope that my brother did not call you away from your ship solely for the purpose of this meeting."

"No, I'd been meaning to come back- hey!" the man said, stopping as he looked at Holmes in confusion. "How did you know that?"

"Never mind," Holmes said dismissively, as he indicated the main door of the museum. "Let us be off now, if you please; this 'League' of Mycroft's would doubtless rather not be kept waiting."

Knowing my friend's methods as I did by now, I found it a relatively easy task to identify the deduction as being based on the roughness of the man's hands coupled with the faint trace of a scar on his face that almost resembled a rope; evidently, this man had at some point had an accident with rigging that had badly burned his face.

As we walked through a door at the end of the museum, Holmes and I found ourselves at the top of a long flight of stairs, that seemed to descend downwards and then keep on going until they vanished from view.

"A effective means of concealment, Watson," Holmes remarked to me, as our guide led the way down the stairs. "At this depth, this meeting area would be inaccessible to all but the most determined of diggers unless one was willing to dig from the sewers, and the stone walls would make it doubly secure. Evidently, whoever designed this place knew well what they were doing."

Eventually, Holmes I had reached a door at the bottom of the stairs. Our guide stepped back and indicated the door.

"Your brother and his colleagues are just through here," he said to Holmes. "I'll be at the top of the stairs making sure you're not disturbed."

"Thank you, my good man," Holmes replied, as he opened the door and the two of us stepped into the room.

As we entered, I could not contain a brief gasp at the sight that lay before us. It was filled with books, almost every inch on the walls being taken up by bookshelves. The only exceptions were a few portraits that hung on the walls, showing various groups of men (One picture even had two women in it) from different eras in history. Around the room were various glass cases, each one containing something that I recognised from the portraits; indeed, I would not have been surprised to learn that the items were the same ones that were to be seen in the portraits.

It was the table in the middle of the room that caught the attention of Holmes and myself, however- or, to be more precise, one of the people sitting at it. This is not to say that the table itself was not an impressive sight, however; on the contrary, it was the longest table I have ever seen, seemingly capable of easily holding at least twenty people.

Right now, it only had three people sitting at it when Holmes and I entered. One figure at the opposite end from the door was easily identified as Mycroft Holmes from his great bulk. The other two figures were a man and a woman, sitting a slight way down from Mycroft as though trying to ignore him, who had turned to look at us as we entered the room.

The man appeared to be in his middle to late twenties, dressed in dark trousers, an off-white shirt, and a dark waistcoat, with an equally dark long coat draped over the back of his chair. He had long, scraggy fair hair and a handsome face, and I noticed a pair of twin Colt pistols holstered under his arms.

However, it was the woman who had instantly attracted our attention. This was not because of her beauty, although beautiful she undoubtedly was; flawless skin that was almost the colour of milk, dazzling blue eyes and dark red hair. She was dressed in a tightly buttoned black jacket and long black dress, with a blood-red scarf around her neck.

No, what made her draw our attention was that the two of us knew her.

"Mrs Wilhemina Harker?" Holmes and I said simultaneously.

Mycroft looked between the three of us in confusion, while the other man just looked over at Mina with an inquiring look on his face.

"You know Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson?" he asked her. "And you didn't mention this?"

"It was only a brief meeting over a decade ago; I simply never thought it worth mentioning," Mrs Harker explained, before standing up and walking over to us. "Mr Holmes, Dr Watson; a pleasure to meet you again," she said, smiling and offering us a hand in turn for us to shake.

AN: To those who may be wondering, Mina met Holmes and Watson in 'Sherlock Holmes Vs. Dracula' by Loren D. Estleman while she was on the train down to London. Van Helsing had ordered Holmes and Watson to cease investigation into Dracula because he feared the publicity that may arise if Watson published the case, so Holmes and Watson boarded Mina's train mid-journey to find out more information about the Count before Mina could be warned not to tell them anything

"The same to you, Mrs Harker," Holmes said, as he shook her hand. "Tell me, how are your husband and his friends?"

It was evidently the wrong thing to say; Mrs Harker's smile faded and she turned away for a moment, as though trying to get herself under control, before looking back at us with a saddened expression.

"I do not know; I have not spoken to Professor Van Helsing, Lord Godalming or Doctor Seward since Jonathan died," she answered.

"Car accident, before you ask," the young man said, as he got out of his chair and stepped forward to shake our hands as well. "Special Agent Tom Sawyer, formerly of the American Secret Service."

"American?" Holmes asked, looking at Mr Sawyer inquiringly. "And yet you are here on a British matter?"

"The plans that have been stolen pose a danger to the world as well as to Britain, Mr Holmes," Mrs Harker said, looking at my friend. "Details such as nationality are hardly important when such large stakes are involved."

"True," Holmes said, nodding as he looked over at Sawyer. "If you do not mind me asking, Mr Sawyer, what abilities does your team possess that merits the title of 'extraordinary'?"

"Why would I mind?" Sawyer asked, shrugging as he indicated two chairs in which Holmes and I sat; Mr Sawyer and Mrs Harker sat opposite us. "I'm an expert marksman and general fighter; two of our other members are experts when it comes to inventing things (One of them's also pretty good at martial arts); two more are far stronger than the normal human being, albeit for different reasons, and we have a seventh member who is…"

He chuckled. "Well, the guy's totally invisible, but the catch is that his power only affects _him_-"

"So he must go into action naked should he wish to use his powers?" Holmes asked, chuckling slightly. I had to agree with my friend; somehow, although grossly inappropriate, the thought of a man having a power that necessitated him to be naked in order to use it was rather amusing.

Then Holmes stopped laughing and looked over at Mrs Harker.

"If you do not mind my asking, Mrs Harker, what is your talent that merits a place among these others?" he asked. "I do not deny that you are a remarkable woman, but there must have been other candidates apart from you."

Mrs Harker swallowed slightly, glanced over at Mr Sawyer as though for confirmation of something, and then looked over at Holmes and myself with a resolved expression.

"What I am about to show you may be shocking, gentlemen," she said to us. "I ask only that you hear me out before making any judgements, and remember that I have made every effort to escape the less… savoury sides of my nature."

She stood up, stepped back from the table, and then she- even writing it, I can scarcely credit it as being real- leapt up onto the ceiling of the room, her hands and feet clutching the smooth horizontal surface as though it with the straightest, must rugged cliff wall in history. As she turned her head to look at us, she opened her mouth and briefly displayed a pair of sharp fangs on her upper jaw, before dropping to the ground with the grace of a cat.

Holmes and I could only stare at this increasingly remarkable woman in awe, with no small degree of horror thrown in as well, while Mr Sawyer merely sat and stared; evidently, he was used to Mrs Harker's talents. I was pleased to see that Mycroft looked slightly shaken himself; evidently, knowing what to expect probably hadn't prepared him for a first-hand demonstration.

To his credit, Holmes contained his obvious surprise at Mrs Harker's actions, and merely looked inquiringly at Mrs Harker as she resumed her seat.

"I presume that your… abilities, for lack of a better term… can trace their origins to a certain count of our mutual acquaintance?" he asked her.

Mrs Harker nodded regretfully. "Oh yes," she said, regret evident in her voice. "He was killed before my transformation could complete itself, but there was enough of a contamination to give me most of the powers of the vampire. My humanity is unimpaired, but I constantly fear that my baser instincts may some day get the better of me, so I devote much of my spare time and energy towards seeking a cure for the thirst that plagues me."

"I see," I said, shaking my head regretfully at the tragic fate that had befallen this good woman.

"Gentlemen- and woman," Mycroft put in from the bottom of the table, "as much as I appreciate you two getting to know each other, we have other matters to attend to right now."

"Oh, yeah, right," Mr Sawyer said, as he looked back at Mycroft. "So, now that we're all here, baring the obvious details of the thefts, is there anything in particular that you've been keeping secret from us?"

Mycroft opened his mouth to speak, but Mr Sawyer just sighed as he looked back at the elder Holmes brother. "Let's start this again; you haven't told us something. Please tell us it now."

Mycroft sighed as he looked at the young man.

"I can see there is no point in deceiving you, Agent Sawyer," he said, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. "You are correct; there is something I have concealed from you, and it is something that explains why I have requested the involvement of the League in this particular matter."

"I did wonder about that, really," Mr Sawyer commented, looking critically at the elder Holmes. "After all, detective work isn't normally our forte, and this _does _seem like more of a deductive thing than our last few jobs for you."

Mycroft sighed, and, reaching down beside his chair, he picked up a briefcase, placed it on the table before him, opened it, and took out several pieces of paper.

"These were left at the scene of the various crimes," he explained, as he walked over to the four of us, giving us each around three sheets of paper. "Often they were left in the place of the plans that were stolen, but some were just left lying around; we are unclear as to why."

I looked at the pieces of paper before me. All three had a simple message on them, no more than ten words long, and each piece of paper was written in different handwriting. One was written in a large and blocky hand, as though unused to the fine activity of putting pen to paper, and another was written in an elegant manner as though the writer had received the best education, while the third seemed like a mixture of the above two; not well educated, but still relatively small and perfectly legible.

WE WANT DOCTOR J.

GIVE HIM TO US.

THE BENEFITER

"How odd," I said, looking over at Mrs Harker. "I presume you know who this 'Doctor J.' might be?"

"Yes," she replied, nodding thoughtfully. "One of our members has those initials… and he certainly has the background to have made enemies with powerful grudges… but…"

She sighed. "I cannot be sure."

"Indeed," Holmes commented. "There is a distinct lack of information into those responsible for these thefts. I presume there is nothing else we have not been told?" he asked Mycroft, glancing over at his brother.

Mycroft shook his head. "Sadly not, Sherlock; you four now know as much as any of my staff are aware of, including myself."

"Well," Mr Sawyer said, as he stood up and looked over at Holmes and myself, "now that we've got the essential details out the way, shall we get started? You two should probably meet the other League members before we go any further, and we've got the sort out our strategy for this investigation."

Holmes nodded. "An excellent plan, Mr Sawyer," he said, as he stood up, followed by Mrs Harker and myself. "We must make haste; I presume there are still other plans that may be stolen?" he added, looking over at Mycroft. The elder Holmes merely nodded, but that was enough.

"Right then," Mr Sawyer said, as he looked over at Holmes and myself, "let's get going; the League's waiting for us. Mycroft, call the others and tell them about that note you just showed up; the sooner they can get started on forming an opinion, the better."


	3. The Pain of the Past

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the League, Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson, or the villain; they all belong to their respective creators, and I'm just borrowing the characters for a bit

**Feedback: **The more the merrier

The Adventure of the Seven Legends

As Holmes and I stepped out of the museum, just behind Mr Sawyer and Mrs Harker, Mr Sawyer raised his hand and seemed to make a 'come here' gesture to something that I initially could not make out. Then it drove out of a nearby side-street, and, to my amazement, it was a long, white object on wheels, with an elaborate silver design around its front and a seating area around the back that seemed about the size of the average passenger area of a carriage.

"What… what _is_ that?" I asked, looking over at Mr Sawyer inquiringly.

Mr Sawyer merely smiled at me. "The inventor calls it an 'automobile'," he said, as he walked up to it and opened a door to allow Mrs Harker, Holmes and myself to enter it.

"Interesting," Holmes said, as he looked around the small area we now found ourselves sitting in. "And, pray tell, who is the inventor?"

"Talented guy," Mr Sawyer said, before he looked behind himself at the driver, who I noticed with some surprise was an Indian. "Take us to the docks, Patel."

"Right away, Mr Sawyer," the man replied, as he turned back and- to my surprise- the 'automobile' began to _move _of its own accord, without the aid of horses!

Holmes, I was nearly annoyed to see, did not seem much perturbed by this; he merely smiled and nodded before glancing over at Mr Sawyer.

"Based on the lack of noise and steam, am I correct in assuming that this car is powered by electricity?" he asked, looking at Mr Sawyer inquiringly.

Mrs Harker nodded. "Indeed, Mr Holmes," she said, smiling briefly at him in approval.

* * *

AN: I acknowledge that the Nemo-mobile is almost certainly like the cars of today and powered by petrol, but in '20 000 Leagues Under the Sea', Nemo had harnessed the power of electricity to power the _Nautilus_, so it seems only sensible to me that he has harnessed it in the same way for his car, albeit on a smaller scale

* * *

"But how?" I asked, looking at Mrs Harker in confusion. "Electricity is still a fairly limited power source; how could the inventor have harnessed its power to move an independent object such as this car?"

"Simple enough, really," Mr Sawyer explained, as he and Mrs Harker settled back more comfortably into their seats to talk to Holmes and myself. "The inventor spent a great deal of time in the ocean, and learned how to harness electricity from the sodium chloride in the water. The car uses a similar principle; he just fills it up with sea water every now and again, and it runs like a dream."

"I see…" Holmes said, nodding thoughtfully before he looked over at Mrs Harker once again. "If you do not mind me asking, Mrs Harker, what exactly _did _happen to you and your friends after you had slain Dracula?"

Mrs Harker shrugged slightly, as though trying to give the impression that the memories involved were nothing in particular. Only a sadness in her eyes showed what she was feeling now.

"It was… not perfect, to say the least," she said, sighing regretfully as she looked out of the window at the streets of London passing by before our eyes. "It started off well, of course; although we mourned the loss of our dear friend Quincy Morris, who so valiantly sacrificed his life to give Jonathan and Professor Van Helsing the chance to slay the vampire king, we were all grateful to him for his actions. We received a hero's welcome from the villages around the mountains, grateful to us for saving them from the continuous feasts of the Count, and shortly afterwards we returned to London, where we returned to our old lives as best we could. Professor Van Helsing moved to London to spend as much time as possible with our group, and we all began to make lives for ourselves; Jonathan and I even had a son, whom we named Quincy Abraham Jonathan Arthur Harker, after our little band."

I looked over inquiringly at Agent Sawyer to see how he was taking this story. It had been apparent to me from early on that the two were, if not lovers themselves, than at least _in_ love; how would he react to hearing Mrs Harker discuss not only her deceased husband, but the child that she had given him?

To his credit, Agent Sawyer appeared to be relatively relaxed about her current topic of discussion; he was evidently already aware of this story, and the only emotion on his face was concern for Mrs Harker, presumably at having to recount what was most likely a painful thing to have to remember.

"Then…" Mrs Harker sighed, as she reached over and took Agent Sawyer's hand, squeezing it slightly as though for comfort. "Then came the night that I shall always remember. We had been staying at the coast for a holiday, but while we were heading home, a storm blew up. Jonathan was driving our coach- we had never felt comfortable with the idea of having servants, even if we had the financial means to pay them- and I was in the main part with Quincy. I have never been entirely clear on what occurred then, but somehow, while we were on a part of the road that was alongside the edge of a cliff, a strong burst of wind and rain struck us, and…"

"And your coach fell off the side of the cliff, correct?" Holmes asked, looking sadly at Mrs Harker. Holmes was not always the most emotive of men, but I could tell that he keenly felt the pain that Mrs Harker must have gone through that night.

Mrs Harker nodded. "I can only guess why it took place that night- my best theory is that the trauma and terror of the experience allowed me to access my vampire powers- but, before I knew what I was doing, I had grabbed Quincy and Jonathan and leapt out of the coach, summoning my bats to take us back to the top of the cliff. Quincy, although unconscious, was quickly determined to be alive, but Jonathan-" here she paused and swallowed briefly, as though collecting herself, before continuing, "Jonathan had sustained injuries in the initial accident- a broken arm and a large, deep cut on his chest being the most obvious damage that I could see- and, coupled with the shock of being dragged upwards at an accelerated rate… He was dead before my feet had even touched the ground."

She broke off her story at this point, and looked to the ground as tears began to form in her eyes. Agent Sawyer did not bother to speak; he knew, as all men do when dealing with the woman they love, when is the best time to speak and when is the time to say nothing at all.

Holmes nodded as he looked at Mrs Harker, who had now regained some measure of control over herself.

"I deeply regret your loss, Mrs Harker," he said to her, as she looked back at the two of us. "I feel it all the more keenly for the fact that Watson and I never had the inestimable pleasure to meet your husband for ourselves; by all accounts, he was a brave man and a good friend for anyone to have made in their lives."

Mrs Harker smiled briefly at Holmes. "Thank you," she said to him, before sitting back and adopting a more professional appearance once again. "After that, I took Quincy to Dr Seward's and explained the situation to him. After some tests by Professor Van Helsing and himself, Dr Seward was able to determine that Dracula's bite had transmitted _some _of the vampire virus to me, but it had remained dormant until then. Tests determined that I was not a pure vampire, still possessing my conscience and lacking some of the more traditional weaknesses such as holy artefacts, but, unfortunately, I still possessed the need for blood. Until I could find an alternative means of sustaining myself, I left Quincy in their care and began to travel, seeking a means of keeping myself alive that would not force me to kill innocent living beings."

"Has there been any luck?" I enquired.

Mrs Harker shook her head. "No; I have tried my best, but I am still cursed with my thirst," she explained, as she reached over and lightly squeezed Agent Sawyer's hand. "That is part of the reason that I remain with the League; if nothing else, should I lose control, they are all well-equipped to stop me before I do any serious harm."

She smiled slightly as she glanced over at Agent Sawyer. "And, of course, the company is greatly appreciated."

She leaned over and kissed Agent Sawyer briefly on the lips, but then the 'automobile' turned around another corner and they separated, Agent Sawyer glancing out the window before looking back at Holmes and I.

"We're here," he said, as the faint sound of the sea was suddenly heard. Glancing out of the window, I noticed to my surprise that we were driving towards the end of a pier, at the end of which was a long, high, silver vehicle that resembled a boat, but it was far sleeker.

Holmes, I was almost annoyed to see, merely nodded and smiled as he stared up at the ship, before glancing over at Agent Sawyer and Mrs Harker.

"The _Nautilus_, I presume?" he asked, smiling slightly at them. "Then this machine's inventor would be the infamous Captain Nemo, am I correct?"

Mrs Harker nodded. "You recognised it remarkably rapidly, Mr Holmes," she said, one corner of her mouth turning up in a slight smile. "You are indeed a remarkable man."

Holmes shrugged dismissively. "It was not so difficult, Mrs Harker," he said, as our driver ran up a ramp that connected the _Nautilus_ (If it was truly that remarkable vessel) to the pier that we had just been driving on. "Given the captain's know talent for technology, coupled with the fact that he is of Indian descent, I was already fairly certain from the moment I saw our driver and our transport that the esteemed captain was one of the other members of this League of yours- I presume he is also the martial artist you mentioned?" he added, glancing over at Agent Sawyer.

The young spy nodded. "Yep; guy's a natural when it comes to anything to do with kicking the other guy about with his bare hands," he said, as the 'automobile' finally stopped in the heart of the _Nautilus_. "Favours a sword, of course, but it's all the same to me; hand-to-hand is hand-to-hand, even if there's something _in _one of the hands."

Opening the door, he smiled at Holmes and myself. "Let's get going; the rest of the League's going to meet us in the conference room."

"The… conference room?" I asked, looking at the young spy in confusion as the four of us stepped out of the car. "Why do you hold your meetings here? Surely that room underneath the British Museum is more secure?"

Agent Sawyer shrugged nonchalantly as the four of us began to walk down the corridors in the main body of the _Nautilus_. "It's got its perks, true, but we've spent so much time on the _Nautilus _it's really come to feel like home," he explained as we walked, Holmes and I slightly behind him and Mrs Harker. "Besides, no offence to your brother, Sherlock, but we don't like feeling like we owe him anything. We're grateful to him for keeping us informed of dangerous situations, and he's helped us find a couple of back-up members when we needed them, but apart from that, he's just our contact with the British Government."

"You regard yourselves as renegades?" Holmes asked, looking at the spy and the vampire inquisitively.

"No, Mr Holmes," Mrs Harker replied. "We regard ourselves as defenders of the innocent; we simply do not feel the need to restrict ourselves to the command of a single government. I intend no disrespect to your brother or his colleagues, but after our betrayal at the hands of a man who helped bring us together merely to use our powers for his own ends, we feel it best to remain as independent as possible."

"But how do you support yourselves?" I asked, looking around at the _Nautilus_. "At least hundreds of men would be required to operate a vehicle of this size on a long-term basis!"

Agent Sawyer chuckled slightly.

"Oh, finances are easy enough," he said, as he continued walking, although he seemed to be slowing down slightly, as though we were nearing our destination. "After all, when you consider that Nemo's got enough cash to pay off France's national debt without missing it, why should we worry about getting paying jobs?"

Holmes and I barely had time to react to that news before the two League members stopped in front of a large set of double doors and glanced back at us.

"Well, here we are," Agent Sawyer said, as he turned the door handle. "Sherlock Holmes, Doctor John Watson, meet…"

And here he swung the door open, finishing his sentence by saying, "… the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen!"

As Holmes and I glanced around the group, we were surprised at the diverse range of faces. One man appeared to only be wearing a long black leather coat and hat, with skin so white that he was evidently wearing make-up; another was dressed in a blue turban with an identically-coloured jacket and white trousers, a bushy black beard on his face; the third had shoulder-length brown hair and was wearing a predominately brown costume, with a slight scar above one eye; the fourth was a tall muscular man wearing what seemed to be an enlarged version of Agent Sawyer's wardrobe, and the fifth…

Holmes and I had never been more shocked in our lives.

"_Doctor Jekyll_!" we both cried in shock and confusion.


	4. The Fantom and the Doctor

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the League, Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson, or the villain; they all belong to their respective creators, and I'm just borrowing the characters for a bit

**Feedback: **The more the merrier

The Adventure of the Seven Legends

The rest of the League could not have been more surprised if the entire world had suddenly changed into angels and forgiven them all for their sins, real or imagined. All six of them instantly turned to look at Dr Jekyll, Holmes, and myself, although I noticed with some confusion that the tall, muscular individual lacked any real expression of surprise or otherwise on his face as he stared at us. Indeed, the only person who did not seem overly confused by this turn of events was Jekyll himself, who looked at Holmes and myself with an almost resigned expression.

"I should have expected this, I suppose," he said, as he studied Holmes and myself. "After all, you two were skilled investigators; I should not be surprised that you eventually deduced the true nature of my link to Edward Hyde. I presume you are the ones who gave the story to Stephenson to publish?"

Holmes nodded in response to the query, although his expression remained present as he studied the good doctor.

"Yes, we told the story to Stephenson a month or so after that final night, although we requested he change certain details to conceal the part Watson and I played in the case," my friend explained. Then he glared at Jekyll in confusion. "But, if you do not mind my asking, how are you still here? Watson and I were convinced that you were dead…"

Jekyll shrugged slightly, an apologetic look on his face.

"I wish I could help you, gentlemen, but I cannot," he said, regret evident on his features. "That last night in London is all a blur to me; I recall being in my laboratory, and then, the next thing I recall, I was standing in a boat on the way to Paris, where I remained until…"

He indicated Agent Sawyer. "This gentleman managed to capture Edward Hyde and bring us both into this League that you see before you."

"Wait a minute; can we have the full story here, please?" the man in the long black coat and white face paint asked in a distinctly Glaswegian accent, raising his hands and looking at the three of us in confusion. "You guys know each other?"

"Indeed," Doctor Jekyll said, glancing over at his new friends with an expression that was just as sheepish as the one he'd possessed when facing us. "When my friend Mr Utterson first learned about Hyde, before anyone else knew that he and I were the same person, he believed that Hyde was blackmailing me for reasons unknown, and hired Mr Holmes and Dr Watson to investigate Hyde to determine what hold, if any, he had over me. They were later hired to investigate Hyde's murder of Sir Danvers Carew, but after that, well…"

He shrugged helplessly. "As I said, I cannot really remember anything about my last night in London, so I regret I am ignorant of what took place then."

He glanced over at Holmes and I sadly once again. "If Hyde or I did anything to hurt you that night, I am sincerely sorry for it. It was actions like that which are the reason Hyde and I remain with this League; both of us, in our own way, seek redemption for what we did in that time of our lives."

Exchanging a glance with Holmes, I was relieved to see that he seemed to agree with my own decision; that we would not fill in the blanks that apparently existed in Doctor Henry Jekyll's memory unless we had to.

After all, what practical purpose could be served by informing this man that Holmes had been forced to kill him when he himself lacked the courage to kill himself…?

"_Anyway_," Sawyer said, looking around the table and speaking in a loud, commanding manner that diverted all attention back to him, "we're not here to discuss the past; we're here to focus on stopping these crimes in the immediate future."

He glanced around the table at the others. "You guys have been going over the information Mycroft gave you about that note, right?"

"Indeed," the Indian man- who could only be the notorious Captain Nemo- said, nodding politely at the young spy. "Unfortunately, we have had little luck with determining who our opponent is; Doctor Jekyll is unable to think of anyone who may have been wronged by Hyde who would also know about his identity as himself. Even with the publication of the novel in question, it is unlikely that anyone would believe the story to be true, and even so, this is a remarkably elaborate attempt to attract attention when revenge is the sole objective."

I was briefly about to enquire as to what they were talking about, but then I realised that it would have been a foolish statement. With the names of at least half the League now know to us, it seemed obvious that the 'Doctor J.' whose presence was requested in the notes left at the crime scenes was Doctor Jekyll himself.

"Have you considered the possibility that the clue to our adversary's identity may lie in how he signed himself?" Holmes added. "Can you think of anyone who may have anything to gain in the event of your death or disappearance?"

Jekyll shook his head. "I already considered that possibility; all my money was left to Utterson after… well, things began to go wrong," he said, leaving it at that. "It is unlikely he would be behind these attacks; it must be someone else who had something to gain from my absence or my work, but nobody fits that regard."

"Couldn't it be someone from the Fantom's base?" the man with the slight scars asked, looking over at the doctor enquiringly. "I mean, you said yourself that your serum was duplicated before you could all arrive; couldn't someone have escaped the destruction and taken a sample of the serum for themselves? Well, besides Moran, obviously…"

"_Moran_!" Holmes and I said in shock, spinning around to look at Agent Sawyer in surprise.

"Colonel Moran was involved with this 'Fantom' that brought you together?" Holmes said, looking at the young American in surprise. "But he was last seen in prison; how could he have escaped? And why was he following another criminal leader after the failure that resulted when he served Moriarty?"

Sawyer sighed as he looked around at the other members, the seven members of the League apparently coming to some silent agreement before Sawyer turned to look back at my friend and I.

"Well, if you're helping us investigate the aftermath, you might as well know how this whole mess got started," he said resignedly, as we all sat back down again. "You see… the Fantom was one of your old foes.

"He was Professor Moriarty."

If I had been more collected myself, the expression on Holmes' face would have been priceless. In all our time together, I could count the amount of times I have seen Holmes look genuinely surprised on the fingers of one hand. This was another such instance, but I was unable to fully appreciate, given that I was just as confused.

"Don't ask me how he survived his last encounter with you, because we honestly have no idea," Agent Sawyer continued, as he looked over at the two of us while he took his place at the head of the table. "All I know is, having survived his fall off the Reichenbach Falls, he took the identity of a disfigured genius called 'the Fantom' and began gathering scientists together to create weapons of war, including Moran among the various soldiers he brought together."

Holmes smiled slightly as he listened, the expression on his face betraying his somewhat grudging respect for his old nemesis.

"A truly elaborate scheme," he said thoughtfully. "I doubt that any but Moriarty could have pulled it off."

Then he looked at Agent Sawyer inquiringly. "But how did you come to oppose him?"

"Well, you remember how I said that we were originally brought together just so that some guy could use our powers for his own ends?" Sawyer explained, as he sat back in his chair. "Moriarty was that guy."

"Yep; the guy had it all planned out," Mr Skinner said, smiling over at us as he took up the story. "Painted some cock-and-bull story about being an agent of Britain, brought us all together, and then used his inside man to collect samples of blood, skin and serum from Mina, me and Jekyll respectively; also took photos of the _Nautilus _so it could be copied by his own science whizzes later on."

"A potentially effective plan," Holmes said, nodding thoughtfully as he turned over what we had been told. "But what went wrong?"

"Well, a few things," Mrs Harker said, taking up the story. "For one thing, Mr Skinner and Dr Jekyll were both more heroic than the professor was expecting them to be, and were able to avert his attempt to destroy the _Nautilus _while his double agent escaped with the samples. For another…"

She smiled as she patted Agent Sawyer's hand affectionately. "Well, he was evidently not expecting Tom to join our team; when we were all prepared to give up, Tom encouraged us to keep on trying, no matter how impossible the situation appeared."

"A commendable attitude, Agent Sawyer," I said, glancing over at the young American to give him an approving nod. "In many of my Afghanistan campaigns, we would have failed were it not for men like you."

"Thanks," Agent Sawyer said casually before turning back to the story. "Anyway, we were able to track Moriarty to his fortress, and then we divided up to blow the place to pieces; Mina killed the double agent, Skinner planted a few bombs, Nemo and Hyde tackled the soldiers, and I… took on Moriarty."

The young spy shrugged in an attempted nonchalant manner as he looked at Holmes and myself. "At the end of the fight, we managed to destroy the fortress, and I took Moriarty out while he was trying to get away, but, as we later learned, Moran managed to escape, using the various samples that had been stolen from Jekyll, Skinner and Mina to mutate himself into some massive… _Beast_, for lack of a better term, with all our powers and his own abilities with a gun."

I opened my mouth to put a question forward, but Mr Skinner shook his head. "Don't even ask it; this definitely _isn't _Moran back for revenge. Whoever wrote this note, the guy's made it clear he only wants Jekyll; Moran made it pretty clear that he wants to kill all seven of us, rather than just focusing on a single specific member."

Holmes nodded in agreement. "And this arrangement does not match Moran's methods," he put in. "If Moran wished to attract attention from a specific individual, this note is hardly a foolproof means of doing so. There must be another who is behind this, but the identity of this individual is maddeningly elusive."

"Do we have any information pertaining to this individual's identity that we may be capable of using?" the tall man whose name had not yet been revealed to me put in. I noted his slightly foreign accent and rather unusual way of speaking with some confusion, but decided to ignore it; this was not the time to begin to question him about such a trivial detail as an explanation for the way he spoke.

"Not enough, I regret to say," Holmes said, shaking his head. "Based on the information Mycroft gave me regarding our opponent's pattern of movement around London as he commits his thefts, it seems logical to assume that he has a good experience of the city as a whole, is well aware of how to organize large groups of people over a long-term basis if he can organise the amount of people needed to carry out these crimes, and must have a large knowledge of mechanical science if he feels he is capable of constructing the weapons that he has acquired the plans of."

"Sounds about right," Mr Skinner said, nodding in agreement of my friend's assessment. "Fits the pattern I'd formed of the guy, at least."

"Really?" Holmes said, looking over at the invisible man curiously. "And how did you reach that conclusion?"

Skinner shrugged. "Just took a few ideas from my own time as a thief; gives me a decent bit of insight in the way they work," he said casually. "May have quit the lifestyle, but that doesn't mean I've forgotten how they work."

Holmes and I nodded in understanding; after our time spent working with Shinwell Johnson on some of our more unusual cases, we were hardly one to begrudge a former criminal for choosing to provide the law with assistance.

Coughing to draw our attention back to him once again, Agent Sawyer waited until all eight of us were looking back in his direction before continuing to talk.

"Well, with those points about our foe in mind, I think our next move should be to try and figure out where the hell this guy's hiding in this city," the American said, as he looked around the table at his fellow League members. "We should split into groups, each group having at least one member who knows London well."

Scanning the table, he quickly seemed to come to a decision. "Mr Holmes, Skinner, Jekyll, you three are the London experts of the group; you'll be the 'leaders' of the groups. I'm with Holmes and Watson, Skinner's with Terry and Mina, and Nemo and Hartdegen go with Jekyll. In the event of discovering anything that may be our foe's base, or encountering individuals who belong to our foe's 'group', you are to avoid engagement unless they provoke the attack first, and contact one or both of the other groups as fast as possible; we want to contain and question them, not to kill anyone. Understood?"

We all nodded in agreement, and the young American stood up from his chair at the head of the table.

"Right then," he said, indicating the door, "let's go; the more time we give this guy, the more chance he'll pull off whatever he's trying to do."

As we began to walk back towards the room where we had entered the _Nautilus_, Holmes and I hung back slightly to discuss the matter of Doctor Jekyll out of earshot of the rest of the League.

"Should we tell them the truth?" I asked my friend, glancing over at our seven new acquaintances to make sure they couldn't hear us; I knew from fighting Dracula that vampire hearing was sensitive, but fortunately Mrs Harker appeared to be far enough away form us that she couldn't hear us. "About our confrontation with Jekyll that last night, I mean?"

Holmes shook his head. "It would appear to serve no purpose, Watson," he replied, as we turned another corner on our way to the exit of this remarkable vessel. "It would appear that Doctor Jekyll cannot explain what has happened to him, whether because he genuinely cannot remember or for another reason that I am unable to deduce at this point, but it can do us no good to press the issue. If he cannot remember, than us forcing him to do so may cause severe mental trauma, and if there is another reason, he will simply refuse to tell us. No, we shall leave it for now, and focus on the matter at hand."

I could only nod in agreement. I had to admit, I agreed with my friend's assessment; if Doctor Jekyll simply did not wish to tell us how he had survived that night, we could not force him to do so, and if he was genuinely ignorant of the events of that night, pressuring him to recall them may do more harm than good.

Still, as Holmes and I kept walking, we both knew we were thinking the same thing.

How could Doctor Henry Jekyll, last seen by us in the form of the malevolent dwarf known as Mr Edward Hyde, have survived getting shot three times in the chest, at practically point-blank range, without so much as even the _faintest _recollection of it…?

AN: The above occurred in 'Doctor Jekyll and Mr Holmes' by Loren D Estleman; basically, Holmes and Watson, having spent the past few months investigating Jekyll and Hyde, track Hyde to Jekyll's study as Jekyll uses the last of his serum, and Jekyll reveals his tragic history to them before forcing Holmes to shoot him to stop Hyde once and for all.


	5. The Evil Unmasked

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the League, Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson, or the villain; they all belong to their respective creators, and I'm just borrowing the characters for a bit

**Feedback: **The more the merrier

The Adventure of the Seven Legends

Around half an hour later, Agent Sawyer was walking with Holmes and myself through the streets of London, one of Agent Sawyer's hands always hovering over his pistols under his long coat while I kept a tight grip on my stick. Holmes' only weaponry, however, was the simple weighted scarf that he had used while we hunted Jack the Ripper all those years ago; it was an undeniably effective means of fighting others in close quarters, but I doubted if it would be effective if we were heavily outnumbered.

Nevertheless, Agent Sawyer appeared quietly confident in his ability to neutralise any adversaries we may encounter before they could escape. When asked, he had merely smiled an enigmatic, almost sad smile, and informed me that he had received lessons in marksmanship from a man who had known a great deal about aiming and firing guns, and left it at that.

As we walked through the streets, however, I was more than slightly disappointed at the apparent lack of activity we had encountered to date. While I acknowledged that this lack of criminal activity could only be a good thing for the common citizen of this great city, I still wished that there would be an attack so that we could, perhaps, have a better chance at tracking the culprits behind these recent robberies. As it was, we had little to no chance of finding those people responsible for the robberies unless another robbery occurred, and so far, this was proving unlikely.

"So," Sherlock Holmes said, as he turned to look at our new acquaintance inquiringly, "as long as we are here, may I inquire as to how you found yourself on this team? From everything we have heard of the team, you do not sound as though you are quite in the same category as the other six members- no offence intended."

"Not a bit of it taken in the first place, I can assure you," the young spy said, shrugging dismissively as the three of us continued to walk down the streets. "It was really a fluke more than anything else; I helped them deal with an attempt by the Fantom to 'ambush' them in Gray's house- of course, it was probably all staged so they could have escaped anyway, but given that Gray would have probably been the 'hero' if that had happened I don't really think about that- and Quartermain let me stick around after that."

He sighed slightly as he glanced around at his surroundings once again, his fingers briefly flying towards his guns before he stopped himself; evidently, whatever he had seen was not the threat he believed it to be.

"I still don't really know why they keep me around at times, to be honest; I mean, I do my best, but there's nothing I can really do that somebody else couldn't pull off with a bit of time and training," the American sighed, sighing slightly as he glanced around the streets while they continued walking.

My friend shook his head.

"You should not put yourself down, Agent Sawyer; from what I have seen of your friends, they all value you highly, regardless of whether or not you have any specific 'extraordinary' abilities," he said, giving the young agent the closest thing that my friend could ever manage to a reassuring smile. "As Watson himself told you during our meeting with your League as a whole, it is men like you that can make all the difference in a military campaign; men who will not give up regardless of the odds against him."

Then his expression became more serious, although his voice retained its reassuring tone as he looked at the young American. "On that topic, Mrs Harker appears to value you particularly highly; tell me, how long have you two been involved with each other?"

"Oh… since about Christmas, really," the young American said, a small smile on his face as his mind went back to the time in question. "We'd been travelling around with the League for a bit before then, seeing the world and all, but Christmas Day, we got to talking after we'd exchanged gifts in the evening, one thing led to another, and, well…"

He shrugged. "Here we are."

"I see," Holmes said, nodding thoughtfully for a moment before looking back at Agent Sawyer. "Tell me, I presume you are aware of the _nature_ of Edward Hyde with regards to what aspect of Henry Jekyll's personality he represents?"

"What, that he was originally created as a physical representation of the evil in Jekyll's soul?" Sawyer replied, a slight smile on his face as he looked over at Holmes. "Yeah, we know, but for me, it's kinda like the ambush at Gray's house; I generally don't think about it that much. Nobody else has really thought about it either, as far as I know; generally we just leave him alone about it."

"'Leave him alone about it'?" I repeated incredulously.

"Well, in all the times Hyde's been active, the guy's never struck me as being _that _bad, to be honest," Sawyer explained, as he turned to look at me. "I mean, there's been several times when he could've just run off and left us to handle the situation on our own, but he's stuck with us despite that. Hell, the guy even went up against a being with the powers of at least half of us when he could have just run off and _helped _the guy to kill people…"

He shrugged slightly, as though the matter didn't really concern him that much. "Look, when you get down to it, Hyde's never given us a reason not to trust him, even if he gets a bit vicious against our opponents at times. Personally, I think that they've kinda exaggerated how bad-"

But what Agent Sawyer had been about to say regarding his opinion of Edward Hyde was never to be revealed, as the faint but nevertheless distinct sound of a large window breaking some way down the street came to our ears. The three of us only needed to exchange the briefest of looks to confirm that we were all of one mind in this matter, and then we were running towards the source of the scream. As we ran, Agent Sawyer and I drew our pistols, briefly checking them for ammunition before placing them in our hands, ready for use if the need arose, as Holmes removed the weighted scarf from his shoulders, clasping it in his hands as he prepared to use it against our upcoming opponents.

As we ran around a corner, we saw the thieves in question, and my eyes widened in surprise at the sight of them.

It was not the manner of the thieves that surprised me; they appeared to be the typically brutish personage who normally resorted to simple strong-arm tactics in order to get along in life. In that regard, at least, they conformed to our current theories about these robberies being overseen by one man who had hired various thieves to commit the crimes; these people appeared as though they would do anything for money.

What shocked me the most about them was the fact that they appeared significantly stronger than, given their likely upbringing in less-than-healthy conditions, they should have been. Indeed, they almost resembled that curious member of the League, Mr Terrance Nator, except that the League member's clothes managed to fit him. _These_ men looked like their clothing was so tightly stretched over their shoulders that it was about to tear at any moment.

Agent Sawyer opened his mouth as though to say something- probably to demand their surrender- but he never got the chance to even begin his sentence. As soon as the initial shock had passed, our opponents charged towards us, roaring in a manner that reminded me uncannily of the Hound of the Baskervilles all those years ago.

None of us were prepared to give them the chance to reach us; aiming our guns, Agent Sawyer and I fired at them, attempting to at least put them down for the moment, while Holmes drew his scarf and thrust the weighted end at his opponent's head.

The blows struck our adversaries, but appeared to do minimal damage; Holmes' foe was sent staggering back, blinking rapidly as though confused, but the beings whom Sawyer and I had targeted merely winced slightly before continuing to charge forward. Fortunately, the two of us were able to neatly sidestep our foes- their significantly greater-than-normal mass apparently came at the cost of reduced manoeuvrability at greater speeds- but, as they halted their charge and turned to glare at the three of us, it was clear that we were in trouble.

"Oh boy…" Agent Sawyer said, as he reached into his pocket. For a moment, I thought he was going to pull another weapon out that he could use, but when he withdrew his hand it was empty. I was about to ask why he had done that, but then the creatures lunged back at us and we were forced to go back on the defensive.

Apparently more used to this kind of situation than either Holmes or myself, Agent Sawyer reacted first; as the 'creatures' lunged towards us, he grabbed us both by the coats and pushed us both down to the ground. Before Holmes or I could react, the American had spun around to face an oncoming creature and, grabbing its arm, almost _fell _back to the ground as he planted a foot on his opponent's chest and literally seemed to _kick _it backwards. Evidently he had somehow managed to use his opponent's momentum against him without experiencing any of the negative effects such a charge would normally have had on his person; the creature was sent crashing into the pavement a couple of feet away, while its companion (A part of me was shocked at how easily I had stopped thinking of our foes as _men_ and was already thinking of them as _things_) turned to look at the slightly shaken form of Sawyer in surprise.

"Now then," the young man said, glaring at the creature as though it were a bad dog as he drew his pistol, showing no sign of the fear he must have felt, "if you're what I think you are, you can probably understand what I'm saying, right?" Not waiting for an answer or response of some kind, the spy continued to speak. "Because if you can understand me, you have two options; you can either luxuriate in a half-decent prison cell while we ask you a couple of questions, _or _you can answer them in the hospital, because I swear, if you make a move, I _will _shoot you."

For a moment, there was a stalemate, as the creature attempted to work out what its next move should be as it glared at the American before it, flexing its fingers in a manner that clearly demonstrated its eagerness for blood fighting with its survival instinct…

Then someone- or some_thing_, because it had some kind of air about it that did not strike me as being fully human- walked out of the shop, glaring in our direction under the shadow of a wide-brimmed hat and high-collar coat, and the situation automatically felt like it had taken a turn for the worse.

Unlike his associates, this man did not in himself appear very dangerous, being only of average size in terms of musculature and only a few inches below average height; he could almost have been called a dwarf. He gave off an air that evidently suggested danger to all three of us- Agent Sawyer appeared decidedly ill-at-ease, and even Holmes appeared slightly unnerved- but there was nothing about what we could see of this man that should normally prompt such a response.

Looking at Agent Sawyer, the man just smiled casually up at us, apparently unfazed by the presence of the guns in the young American's hands, and only giving a brief nod to show that he had even registered the presence of Holmes and myself.

"Ah, you and your associates finally got my note, I perceive, Agent Tom Sawyer?" he asked, the faint gleam of light on his almost animal-like teeth showing that he was smiling. "I have to admit, I'm almost surprised it took the _Nautilus _this long to get here; did Mycroft Holmes take a while to bother to contact you?"

"What?" Agent Sawyer said, trying to keep his guns trained on his opponents even as he glared in the man's direction, confusion evident on his face. "How do _you _know about the _Nautilus_?"

The man smiled in a casual manner, as though he was almost surprised Agent Sawyer didn't realise the answer to that question instantly and was humouring him as though he were a small child.

"I know a truly remarkable amount about the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, my good sir," he said, the smirk on his face giving the impression that he was enjoying a joke at our expense.

"After all, if I was ignorant of you and your associates, how would I be able to acquire associates such as these?" he continued, indicating the three men/creatures lying around us, who had by now regained their footing, even if they still looked uncertain about what to do next. Indeed, I noticed them edging slightly towards the new arrival, almost as though they were dogs seeking the protection of their master from a threat they could not fully understand.

"Wait a minute… the Hyde serum?" Agent Sawyer asked, raising an eyebrow as he studied the creatures before he looked back at our opponent. "You didn't do a very good job; Hyde's a _lot _bigger than these guys."

"Well, modifications had to be made to the drug, naturally; I didn't want them to retain their human minds in this form," the man chuckled, as he ruffled the hair on one of the creatures as though it were a dog of some kind. "I mean, something _this _strong with a will of its own? It's hardly on the same level of physical power as the good doctor's alter-ego, but it could still be a significant problem for me if it ever decided to fight me."

"And how did you come by this information?" Holmes asked, looking inquiringly at the man. "The mud on your coat seems to indicate that you have been in this part of the world for several months, at least since the League itself became active. The immediate assumption would be that you were in the employment of the Fantom, but according to my sources he only developed a means to create the Hyde serum in his Mongolian fortress, and you were clearly in London at the time he was at work. Since the fortress was destroyed, you could hardly have gone there to acquire the files at a later date, and if the headquarters of British Intelligence had been infiltrated in the last few months, I feel sure that Mycroft would have requested my assistance in investigating the matter."

The man nodded slightly as my friend spoke.

"Indeed, Mr Holmes," he said, as he looked at the detective in a casual manner. "Your talents are as impressive as I remember them to be. It is almost a shame that you never turned your mind to crime rather than detection; you could have been a truly _worthy _adversary if you lacked your foolish concepts of morality."

Holmes shrugged his shoulders in a nonchalant manner.

"I have been given that offer before, and, as ever, I must decline it," he said, looking critically at our new opponent. "Now then, as we are all here, would you care to tell us who you _are_?"

The man opened his mouth to reply, but was suddenly interrupted as a sudden loud pounding noise, as though something heavy, was running towards us. Despite the still-present danger posed by our opponent, Holmes, Agent Sawyer and myself turned to peer over our shoulders in the direction of the noise, and saw Captain Nemo and Professor Hartdegen coming around the corner, a sword in Nemo's hand and a gun in Professor Hartdegen's.

However, neither of these men were the source of the rumbling we had heard; that came from the third figure, who rounded the corner a few seconds after the other two men. For a moment, I thought that the two men had, for reasons unknown, freed a gorilla from London Zoo to help us in this struggle, but then I realised that this creature was far larger than any monkey, and seemed to be dressed in a torn dinner suit. It almost seemed as though the creature had suddenly gained a significant amount of muscle in very little time, and its clothing had subsequently been nearly torn apart in the process.

I am sure that Holmes and I, for once, realised what this creature was at the same time; he had changed a great deal since our last fatal encounter with him, but there was no other who could look like this and would travel with the League.

"Mr Edward Hyde!" the man smiled, from where he was standing behind us. "So _good _to see you again!"

The creature that Mr Hyde seemed to have become simply grunted as he stared at our adversary.

"And you are?" he asked, critically. "Your soldiers look a bit like me, but that's all I can think of that you and I have both experienced."

"Oh, come come, you're going to be like _that_?" the man said, looking scathingly at Hyde. "After all I had to go through to ensure that Henry could transform into _you _instead, and you don't even _remember _me?"

Looking back at Hyde, it was apparent that, while the meaning behind that sentence was lost on us, it was apparent to our brutish companion; he had become visibly paler, and was staring at the man as though he'd just encountered the very Devil.

"No…" he said, staring at the man in terror. "It can't be… _you_ can't be…"

The man chuckled.

"I would have thought that, with your new associates, you would have learned that _nothing _is impossible," he said, smiling casually at Mr Hyde as he raised his head slightly. As he did so, the shadow that had concealed his face was finally lifted…

And my eyes widened in horror at the sight before us.

The face before us nearly defied description. I can see it to this day, yet words are insufficient to describe the expression- indeed, the very _aura_- of pure, unmitigated evil about it, as it stared casually at us all.

However, none of this terror could compare to the horror I felt as I saw the face.

It was a face that could _not _be there, because the person it had once belonged to was talking to the man right now.

The face of the Mr Edward Hyde who had murdered Sir Danvers Carew all those years ago, and who had been shot by Holmes as Doctor Jekyll began to transform that fatal night.


	6. The First Confrontation

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the League, Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson, or the villain; they all belong to their respective creators, and I'm just borrowing the characters for a bit

**Feedback: **The more the merrier

AN: To clear up confusion, when I refer to _Edward _Hyde, I'm referring to the Hyde from the movie- e.g. the eight-foot-tall engine of mass destruction. When it's _Mr _Hyde, it's the Hyde from the original novel by Robert Louis Stevenson- the evil, sadistic, manipulative dwarf

AN 2: Sorry about the delay; I had a _serious _case of writer's block with this chapter, not to mention all the other story ideas I kept coming up with in the intervening time

The Adventure of the Seven Legends

"You _can't _be here!" Edward Hyde yelled at his… 'predecessor' was the only term I could come up with to describe the being that now stood before us. At present, Holmes and I, the only two people who appeared fully aware of who this 'man' was, were remaining quiet, I at least trying to understand how two different versions of the same man could be interacting in this manner in the real world.

"What; you thought I was dead just because I was battered about and shot a bit?" Mr Hyde retorted, grinning at Edward Hyde as though he was somewhat disappointed in him not realising what had really taken place. "After all those times when Henry thought of me as being _less _than human, did it never occur to him that, as I was not _exactly _human, I might have certain… abilities… that went _beyond _the human norm?"

"I'm sorry; can we just back up here a few minutes for those of us who're just totally confused by the situation at present?" Agent Sawyer put in, accompanied by brief nods from Captain Nemo and Professor Hartdegen. "I mean, first of all, who the hell _are _you?"

This question was directed at Mr Hyde, who, much to my annoyance, merely smiled politely; once again, it felt as though his smile was that of a parent humouring the child who'd asked what clouds were.

I thought briefly about explaining the situation myself- I loathed the idea of giving Mr Hyde more opportunities to speak than were absolutely necessary- but something told me that it would be best, for the moment, if I allowed Mr Hyde to say what he wanted to say to us. The likely consequences of angering him, especially given what had happened to Sir Danvers simply for speaking to Mr Hyde when the man was in a foul mood, would most likely not be pleasant ones.

"Surely you are aware of the truth from the book Mrs Harker gave you for Christmas, Agent Sawyer?" Mr Hyde asked, smiling casually at the young American who led the League. "All this time, and you have _never _wondered about the discrepancy between the Hyde as recorded by Robert Louis Stevenson and the Hyde that you are personally acquainted with?"

"Pardon?" Captain Nemo said, looking at Agent Sawyer enquiringly. "I have never read the book myself, Agent Sawyer; are you aware as to the exact nature of this 'discrepancy' that this man is referring to?"

"Well… maybe, yeah…" Agent Sawyer said, nodding thoughtfully as he continued to look fixedly at Mr Hyde. "The only real difference between the Hyde we know and the Hyde in Stephenson's book was that the Hyde Stevenson wrote about was more of an evil midget than anything else; I guess I always just assumed that Hyde got bigger the more times Jekyll drank the serum until he turned into the model we know now…"

He looked critically at the creature before them. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Simple, Agent Sawyer," Mr Hyde replied, grinning as he looked up at Edward Hyde, who was still staring at his 'counterpart' with a horrified expression. "_I _am the original Mr Edward Hyde."

Then, before anyone could react to that news, he had stepped back, allowing the three creatures that had attacked Holmes, Agent Sawyer and myself earlier to launch forward, mouths open in a loud roar as they glared angrily at the six of us. A part of my mind vaguely registered that the man who had been talking now turned around and dived back into the shop, but I, like my friend and my new 'colleagues', was now more concerned with the immediate danger posed by the creatures.

Edward Hyde, naturally, appeared to be perfectly capable of handling his opponent; although it had gained an early advantage by being the first one of the two combatants to strike, Edward Hyde was clearly the stronger of the two, and seemed as though he would have little to no trouble in dispatching his adversary. Holmes, Agent Sawyer, Captain Nemo, Professor Hartdegen and myself, however, were forced to simply try and stay out of the way of our respective opponents; I found myself facing the same creature as Professor Hartdegen, while Agent Sawyer, Captain Nemo and Holmes tried desperately to stay one step ahead of their own individual adversaries.

Fortunately, it soon became apparent that the creatures were incapable of learning from their initial mistakes in fighting; unlike Edward Hyde, who at least retained a human level of intelligence, it was clear that Mr Hyde had been telling the truth when he told us that his version of the serum came with a reduction of the intellectual abilities of the person using it.

It took the Professor and myself only a few moments to learn its favoured methods of attacking us- it seemed to favour simply punching us in the chests or trying to break our arms- and, having established that, it proved remarkably easy to stay ahead of it, despite its greater strength.

I noted, much to my surprise, that Professor Hartdegen even managed to land some damaging blows on his opponent as the two of us fought the creature, striking areas that I recognised vaguely as nerve clusters; evidently, the League believed in training all their members for combat.

However, our foe was clearly not impressed by Professor Hartdegen's attacks on it, and it did not even appear to be that debilitated by Professor Hartdegen's successful strikes; either the Professor's blows at the nerve clusters had missed, or this creature's nerves were so drastically different from human ones that such attacks had only limited effectiveness.

"We cannot win this!" I yelled over to Professor Hartdegen, as I narrowly avoided the creature's attempt to grab my skull and (I presumed; I could barely bring myself to guess at its possible motives) crush it like an egg. Glancing around, I noticed that, despite their best efforts, Agent Sawyer and Holmes had been apparently unable to defeat their respective opponents; both men were lying unconscious at various points in the alley, ugly bruises on their faces that made it clear they would not awaken to aid us any time soon. "We're outnumbered!"

"Indeed," the Professor said, a grim expression on his face as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small glass bottle of some kind. "Time for Mr Seeque to come into play, I feel."

Before I could inquire as to what he meant by that comment, Professor Hartdegen had swallowed the contents of the bottle in one gulp. Even as I watched in shock, his body suddenly contorted, a loud scream of agony tearing from his lips as his entire body seemed to _bulge _outwards, growing ever larger at an alarming speed…

Then, in a mater of moments, another creature resembling Edward Hyde stood in front of me, a wicked grin on its face as it glanced in my direction.

"Hello there, my good doctor," the creature said, the smile on its face leaving me unnerved despite my best intentions and the knowledge that it was still Professor Hartdegen under that mass of muscle. "Call me Joseph Seeque; pleased to meet you."

"The… the same here, I am sure," I stammered slightly, trying to control my instinctive fear at this large form before me; whatever else he was, Seeque was at least on the side I fought for, and should be treated as an ally rather than something to be feared.

However, before I could ask any further questions, Seeque had roared once and charged back into action, tackling both the creature Hartdegen and I had been fighting earlier and one of the creatures that had been struggling with the League's Edward Hyde. Glancing around, I noticed that Captain Nemo was holding his own against his foe, his sword delivering significant damage to the larger being's chest and arms despite its vastly superior size, while Agent Sawyer and Holmes were attempting to dazedly get back to their feet despite their own injuries; clearly, the creature that had been up against them had failed to kill them for reasons that were presently unclear to me.

As the battle against Edward Hyde and the unexpected addition of Mr Seeque continued, however, a possible explanation for the survival of my friend and our new ally became apparent to me. Although the creatures we now faced were indeed physically powerful specimens, they clearly lacked much training in matters of hand-to-hand combat, leaving them relying solely on sheer brute strength. Their blows may have been enough to knock normal men down, but I was prepared to guess that their blows had been mere glancing attacks rather than an all-out assault, hence leaving Holmes and Agent Sawyer dazed without sustaining any long-term damage.

However, as much as I was grateful for my friends still being among the living, reflecting on how that happy set of circumstances had come about was accomplishing nothing; right now, the rest of us had to deal with the more immediate problem of defeating these creatures before further damage could be done.

Fortunately, with the clearly unanticipated intervention of Joseph Seeque on our side- whether our opponent hadn't known about Hartdegen's willingness to use Doctor Jekyll's formula or simply didn't believe that the former teacher would use it again I never determined- our attackers were soon quickly disposed of; the combined strength of Edward Hyde and Joseph Seeque proved highly effective in knocking out two of the creatures, while Captain Nemo's adversary, despite his own great strength, appeared to finally sustain too much damage in his fight with the Indian swordsman, collapsing to the ground as he clutched at his scratched and bleeding chest.

"_Yikes_…" Agent Sawyer groaned from off to the side, as he and my friend studied the scene before them; bruises were developing on their heads, but they appeared to be relatively steady on their feet. My friend's constitution had always been a strong one, made even more powerful after the combat training he had taken over the course of our time together, and Agent Sawyer's time with the League had clearly made him just as capable of coping with pain as my friend was.

"Tell me about it," Hyde grunted as he studied the fallen forms before them, a grim expression on his face. "These creatures were bloody _morons_, really; good in numbers against amateurs, but against trained professionals…"

He shook his head in what could have been a gesture of either pity or mockery; it was hard to be sure. "It's not even a challenge."

"Quite," Captain Nemo said, before he looked around at our surroundings. "Now then, where did…" he began, only for his voice to trail off, his head cocked to one side as though he was listening to something.

Specifically, he was listening to the rapidly-fading sound of a series of rapid footsteps as someone ran away from the scene as fast as possible.

Glancing in the direction of the footsteps, I was only slightly surprised to see a slightly dwarfish form that could only be the other Mr Edward Hyde running away from the shop that his 'creatures' had just broken into, a bag of what appeared to be tools and other such equipment slung over his back; evidently he had collected what he had gone to the shop for while we were otherwise occupied. He was already some distance away, having presumably started running as soon as we began to fight with his creatures, but the bag on his back was clearly weighing him down, and his progress along the streets was limited.

"_After him_!" Agent Sawyer yelled, indicating the direction our target was running in. "We have _definitely _got some questions to ask that sucker!"

As we ran after the dwarf-like figure in front of us, only just visible in the dim light of the stars and the faint lights from the surrounding houses, I was greatly relieved that there were few people out at this time of night. Not only did it make it easier to track our quarry, despite his head-start and significant speed, but it also meant that we weren't forced to come up with answers to questions about Seeque and Hyde that would have been difficult to answer at best and nearly impossible to come up with in the first place. The faint thumping sound the two made as they ran alongside us may have doubtless attracted some attention from those inside the houses, but at the rate we were moving I doubted that anybody would manage to get a clear enough look at either of them as we ran.

As the race progressed, taking us further from our starting point and deeper into the murkier areas of London, I strained myself ever harder, determined to ignore the increasing exhaustion I felt and keep pace with my new allies, regardless of how much fitter they might be when compared to myself. Although Hyde and Seeque's larger bodies slowed them down somewhat, they nevertheless appeared clearly capable of keeping up an effective pace, and Agent Sawyer and Captain Nemo easily kept up an even pace as they followed our current target with a speed that would have impressed most professional runners. Holmes, I noted with little surprise, was easily keeping pace with the two League members as he ran after our opponent, while I averaged a somewhat middle speed between the three humans before me and the two 'enhanced humans'- for lack of a better term- behind me.

Regardless of our differing speeds, our small group eventually managed to gain some ground to catch up to Mr Hyde when he briefly stumbled while running past some of the more run-down houses in the area. I personally attributed his decreasing speed to the bundle he carried over his back- whatever it contained, it was bound to be far heavier than anything we were transporting on our own persons-

As we rounded the corner that Mr Hyde had just turned around, Agent Sawyer, Captain Nemo, Holmes and I raised our weapons as Edward Hyde and Joseph Seeque clenched their fists, each one of us prepared to strike at our adversary with whatever it took to put him down and find the answers we sought, only for us to see nothing but empty alley before us.

"What the…?" Agent Sawyer said, looking around himself in surprise. "Where'd he go?"

"A very good question, Agent Sawyer," Holmes said, nodding thoughtfully as he studied the scene before us. As my eyes grew accustomed to the dim light in this street, I registered what Holmes was seeing; although there were a couple of doors on either side of the alley, they were clearly locked and bolted, and had remained so for some time. The wall in front of us offered some possibilities regarding hand and footholds if a person attempted to climb up it, but it would have taken them a great deal of time to reach the top, so I found it unlikely that a human could have climbed it in the amount of time that Mr Hyde had been out of our sight.

Then I remembered that we were not dealing with a human being. He may have been capable of walking and talking, but in every regard that made humanity separate from the animals, Mr Hyde was little better than an animal, and hence would most likely possess some abilities that were beyond the capabilities of the rest of us. As he had said himself, he was not _exactly _human; why should he not possess some abilities the common man lacked?

"He climbed up the wall," Nemo stated simply, sliding his sword back into his belt as he studied the tall building before them. "That was only to be expected, I suppose; we should have remembered that we do not face a normal man."

"Well, so much for tracking him to his base," Agent Sawyer sighed, as he put the safety catch back into position on his pistols and put them back into their holsters. "None of us can climb up something like that in time to catch him up, and the only people who might be able to climb it would take too long to get here; looks like he gets away this time around."

"_Great_," Seeque growled, his shoulders slumping in frustration as he stared at the empty alleyway before us. "We come all this way, risk life and limb tackling a bunch of mini-Hydes, and then, when the time comes to actually take down the guy who _started _all this, we don't manage to catch him and we're left with _squat _in the way of answers!"

"I would not say we had _nothing _to go on in terms of answers, Mr… Seeque, I believe you called yourself?" Holmes said to the tall figure before him, continuing after Mr Seeque nodded in confirmation. "On the contrary, I believe that we have a very potentially useful source of information standing not a few feet behind yourself, even if he is presently reluctant to provide us with answers to what I do not doubt is a very personal issue for him."

Turning to look in the direction that my friend had pointed, the League members and I were relatively unsurprised to see who Holmes had been pointing at; the large, almost sheepish-looking form of Edward Hyde.

"Yeah…" Agent Sawyer stated, folding his arms as he looked critically at his teammate. "You care to fill in the blanks of this puzzle, _Edward_?"

For a moment, as he stared uncertainly at his leader, I almost believed that Edward Hyde would refuse to provide us with the answers we sought, but then he shook his head and sighed apologetically.

"Yes… I _do _remember a bit more about my last night in London than Henry and I've ever shared with anyone," he said, as he looked around at the rest of us. "Look, can we just… get back to the _Nautilus _and take this whole thing from there? We'd both prefer to only have to tell this to you all once; it's complicated enough as it is without needing to repeat myself."

"Ah," Agent Sawyer said, a grim expression on his face as he studied the powerful creature standing before us before he finally nodded in resignation. "OK then, everyone back to the museum base; Seeque and I'll track down the others and join you there when we've got them, OK?"

"Agreed," Holmes said, nodding at the young American as he turned to look at me and the others. "Come then, Watson; for the moment, there is nothing more we can accomplish by remaining here."


	7. The Division of Black, White, and Grey

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the League, Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson, or the villain; they all belong to their respective creators, and I'm just borrowing the characters for a bit

**Feedback: **The more the merrier

The Adventure of the Seven Legends

An hour later, having contacted the other members of the League and returning to their apparent headquarters underneath the British Museum, the League, Holmes and myself found ourselves sitting around the table, looking expectantly at Doctor Jekyll as he stood at the top of the table.

"Right then, Henry," Agent Sawyer said, leaning over to clasp his hands together as he looked critically at his friend, "now that we're all here, care to tell us all _how _you and the little midget Hyde can be active at the same time?"

"And come to that, care to explain where the big guy comes into play if this little dude's the original Hyde?" Mr Skinner inquired, tilting his head to one side; at present he was only wearing his coat and hat, minus the white greasepaint he wore when in public, so the only sign of the action was the hat tilting slightly in apparently thin air. "I read the book you gave Sawyer, but I always thought that the little guy just grew a lot over the years or something."

"A reasonable guess, but an incorrect one," Doctor Jekyll said, shaking his head slightly at the former thief before he turned his attention back to the rest of the League. "Firstly, I must apologise for never mentioning that this had taken place, but I assure you that, at the time, I assumed it had been dealt with at the time and would never return to trouble me again."

"What wouldn't trouble you again?" Professor Hartdegen asked, raising his eyebrow curiously; having returned to the Museum and transformed back from Jospeh Seeque, he had changed into a spare jacket and shirt that had been laid aside for him, and now looked as though he'd never transformed in the first place.

"That is a complicated story, but I shall do what I can to explain it," Doctor Jekyll said, nodding briefly at his friend before he turned to look at the entire League once again. "For the benefit of those of you who are unaware of the events in Stevenson's book, my original transformation to Hyde was, as it is now, triggered whenever I drank a potion, this one consisting of, among other things, a certain white powder that I would rather remained nameless. As time went on, Hyde began to grow more and more dominant in my psyche than he had been originally, with the result that I sometimes found myself transforming into him without the potion, commonly whenever I was tired or thought an impure thought. Originally, I resigned myself to simply keeping my secret by remaining in my rooms and maintaining regular access to my potion, but things eventually became more difficult for me when I began to run out of the powder that I had used in the original potion. Initially, I attempted to simply recover more supplies of the powder, but further supplies had no effect beyond making me ill and weak; no transformation of any kind resulted from the experience. I eventually concluded that the first supply of the powder had not been pure, and it was that unknown impurity that was the vital ingredient in the transformation."

"Wait a minute; you were running out of the _key _ingredient to your potion?" Professor Hartdegen said, looking in confusion at Doctor Jekyll. "But then… how do you manage to keep so much of it available?"

"Oh, the explanation for that is straightforward enough; it's the consequences of the reasons for that change that are the problem here," Doctor Jekyll explained, shaking his head slightly as he continued to study his friends and teammates. "You see, once I concluded that, since duplicating the original formula for my serum was clearly impossible, it occurred to me that my only chance to maintain my original identity was to come up with a new serum that would do the opposite of what I had originally sought; repress the darker sides of my nature once again, and allow me to once again regain dominance over him. In the moments between my transformations as Hyde, I worked on modifying my original formula to incorporate the lack of the powder and bring the transformation further under my control once again. According to all my calculations, the Hyde personality would no longer be as suppressed as it had been in the past- I would henceforth be aware of him even when I was _not _him-, and there might be some other side-effects to the transformation, but in exchange for regaining control of my ability to turn into Hyde, I felt it worth the risk."

"So what happened from there?" Mrs Harker asked, looking curiously at the former London doctor. "Where does the Hyde we know come into existence?"

"The answer to that question can be found on the last night I spent in my rooms at London," Doctor Jekyll explained, as he sat down in a nearby chair, the better to continue the conversation in relative comfort. "I had finally managed to come up with a formula that I believed would prevent my periodic transformations into Hyde, albeit at the cost of giving him some degree of influence even when I had not actually transformed into him. With the knowledge that I was rapidly approaching a point where transformation would be imminent, I drank the potion, and, for a moment, lost consciousness as the transformation overtook me.

"The next thing I remember- or rather, the next thing that Hyde remembers- is standing in my rooms, now seemingly having shrunk a significant amount, and facing, much to my surprise, the familiar dwarf-like form that was my former appearance when I transformed into My Hyde."

"You were facing him?" Holmes asked, leaning forward to look inquiringly at Doctor Jekyll. "As in, you had woken up and you were now facing yourself? He was literally now an independent entity; this did not merely occur as a dream of some sort?"

"It was no dream; this genuinely took place," Doctor Jekyll said, nodding in confirmation at my friend as he continued. "To date, I have never been able to deduce how that occurred. My best guess is that, when I drank my new serum, intended to permanently suppress Edward Hyde physically, Hyde had established himself as such a strong personality independently that he managed to physically manifest himself as an independent entity when faced with the prospect of being permanently trapped, rather like a wild animal about to be caged will fight the prospect as much as it is capable of."

"So… you're saying, when faced with the choice of being trapped or being independent, Hyde chose to basically 'leave' your actual _body_?" Agent Sawyer said, staring incredulously at his teammate. "Ouch… that _had _to hurt."

"Quite," Jekyll said, nodding simply in confirmation. "If it hadn't been for the new Hyde's sheer strength, I may well have passed out long enough for the new Hyde to kill me as a means of revenge for what I had done to him; as it was, Edward was capable of forcing back the pain long enough to confront this new individual.

"Confronting my… well, my other self is the only term Hyde and I have ever found to describe the individual in question… Hyde soon determined that he retained all my memories of my actions both as myself and as… himself… and rapidly decided that there would be nothing to gain by leaving him alive and free. A short battle took place, resulting in the original Hyde being seemingly beaten to death by the new model; his natural cunning allowed him to land some blows, but the new Hyde was significantly stronger than he was, and he has only grown in size and power each time I drank my new formula."

"OK, so that fills in the question of how the guy seems to be walking about _without _being you; what I _don't _get is how he's still breathing after you apparently beat him to death," Agent Sawyer mused, before he glanced over inquiringly at Holmes and myself. "I don't suppose your last meeting with Jekyll holds any clue? You did say you'd encountered him on his last night in London…"

Holmes shook his head. "Unfortunately, at the moment that encounter appears to only add to our questions rather than answer them," he said apologetically as he looked at our new allies. "Having discovered what we could of Jekyll's past history and his near-obsession with the duality of human nature, I had already at least partially deduced the truth behind his connection with Edward Hyde, but sought to uncover proof by confronting him in his own study once and for all. Arriving there, Watson and I found ourselves confronted by Edward Hyde in Jekyll's clothing, but he subsequently drank what he described as the last phial of his serum, causing him to transform back into Jekyll and subsequently explain the whole thing to us."

"Hold on; he could turn into _Jekyll_?" Professor Hartdegen said, looking incredulously over at my friend. "But… even assuming that the original Hyde _survived _our Hyde's attack, how could he have turned into Jekyll when he wasn't _part _of Jekyll any more?"

"Just because he was an independent entity wouldn't have stopped him possessing _some _aspects of Jekyll that the serum could affect," Mrs Harker put in, leaning forward to look inquiringly at Doctor Jekyll as she spoke. "He must have still possessed at least some fragments of his original identity that the potion could bring out, but he would have simply lacked the strength to remain Jekyll for as long as usual."

"Indeed, that would account for the haste of his transformation back into Hyde," Holmes mused, glancing over at me. "Would you not agree with me, Watson, that the Jekyll we encountered turned back into Hyde after only an hour or so at most?"

"That does appear to fit," I replied, nodding in confirmation as I looked at the doctor in question. "Would I be correct in assuming that such a rapid transformation back was not a regular occurrence for you, Doctor?"

Jekyll shook his head. "No, Doctor Watson, it was not," he replied, a thoughtful expression on his face for a moment before he looked back at Mrs Harker. "It would appear that your theory was correct, Mina; there would be enough of my personality left in his body to enable him to transform back and forth with the original serum, but not enough to allow him to maintain my appearance for the regular length of time. The serum could have only brought out whatever aspects of me remained in that Hyde; as the purest personification of the evil within me, it is only to be expected that he would not be capable of existing in his 'Jekyll' identity for long."

"OK, so we've got the 'how he could become you' bit sorted out; what we _don't _know is what happened afterwards that means he's still walking about" Mr Skinner said, glancing back at Holmes as he spoke. "Care to fill us in on what happened after he'd told you everything?"

For a moment, Holmes and I exchanged reluctant glances- even after so long, the events of that last confrontation in Doctor Jekyll's study was still a somewhat uncomfortable subject among the two of us-, but finally Holmes spoke.

"Having told us the truth about his life as Hyde, and having revealed that he had failed in every attempt to duplicate the original serum- without, of course, mentioning this new formula that the good doctor developed-, the doctor revealed that he had lain out a phial of cyanide on the table, hoping that Hyde would chose that option rather than the gallows. However, Watson and I both expressed our disbelief that someone as in love with himself as Hyde would ever commit suicide, prompting Jekyll to take up a poker and move to attack us, citing his actions as the actions of a man who lacked both the will to live and the courage to die. I was forced to shoot him to stop him killing Watson and myself- apparently at the moment he was transforming into Edward Hyde-, and, with Utterson and Poole banging on the door, we departed the laboratory by the window, throwing Jekyll's papers into the fire to prevent anybody from ever attempting to duplicate his experiments."

"Ah," Doctor Jekyll said, nodding in understanding as he looked at the two of us. "Well, that would certainly account for your surprise at finding me alive when you joined us…"

"But it still fails to provide us with an explanation for your other self's continued existence," Captain Nemo pointed out, looking critically at his ally before turning to look at Holmes and myself. "I assume there is no possibility that your bullets failed to actually wound Mr Hyde?"

Holmes shook his head. "I fired at him from practically point-blank rage three times and saw each bullet leave a bloody wound; my shots definitely struck home," he assured the Indian captain. "With that in mind, his continued presence remains baffling, even with the initial puzzle of his independent existence solved…"

"Maybe not _that _much of a puzzle," Mrs Harker put in, a slight smile on her face as she looked over at Doctor Jekyll. "Tell me, Henry, when you initially transformed into the other Hyde, Stephenson's novel records that you were an almost ape-like being in some ways, on some occasions displaying a preternatural strength for a human of his size and bulk."

"Yes…" Jekyll said, nodding uncertainly as he looked at Mina. "Your point?"

"My query is, did you at any point test your ability to heal from injuries?" the part-vampire inquired, leaning back in her chair to look quizzically at her colleague.

Doctor Jekyll's eyes widened in shock, inspiration striking him at almost the same moment it occurred to the rest of us.

"Accelerated healing…" Agent Sawyer groaned, as he clasped his forehead in frustration. "_Great_… not only have we got an evil midget genius to deal with, we've got to deal with an evil midget genius who's at the very least _very _difficult to kill."

"Quite," Holmes said, nodding in agreement with Agent Sawyer's assessment before he looked back at Doctor Jekyll. "Shall I assume that your other self's healing abilities are merely somewhat faster than the human norm, rather than being as impressive as those possessed by, say, Mrs Harker?"

Doctor Jekyll nodded. "Precisely," he said, confirming my friend's guess. "If Edward had taken the time to confirm that Mr Hyde was truly dead- if he had broken his neck or something similar- I have no doubt that Mr Hyde would have died, but, as it is, he must have simply escaped after regaining consciousness, leaving a similar enough body behind that nobody would question it. I doubt that his malevonent aspect would be expected to endure after his death, and his apparent use of cyanide to kill himself could have accounted for any of the facial disfigurement that might have been used to account for his changed appearance."

"As reasonable an assumption as any," Holmes said, nodding thoughtfully at Doctor Jekyll before he turned to look at Agent Sawyer. "Given this new discovery, what do you feel our next move should be in attempting to track Mr Hyde?"

Sawyer shrugged. "We've got some personal information about the guy that we didn't have before, _and _we have access to the person who knows how he thinks best out of anybody; personally, I'd say ask Jekyll how he feels about this guy and take it from there."

"A sound strategy; I agree with you," Holmes replied, nodding in approval before looking at Doctor Jekyll. "Well, Doctor, do you have any ideas where your other self may be concealing himself at present?"

Almost instinctively, Jekyll began to shake his head, but stopped himself mid-shake and began to slowly nod, tapping his chin thoughtfully as though trying to remember something.

"Well… there is _one _possibility…" he said reflectively as he looked around at the League, a slightly embarrassed expression on his face at the thought. "There _were _a few locations in Soho that Hyde frequented more than others; even if he isn't actually _there_, we might be able to find somebody who can tell us where he is."

"Ah; undercover mission, eh?" Mr Skinner said, smiling casually over at the doctor as he stood up, stretched slightly, and glanced over at Agent Sawyer. "So, you want me to lead this little mission?"

Sawyer nodded. "You've got first-hand knowledge on how these guys operate; if there's a better candidate for that job, I can't think of him," he said to the invisible man, before he began to briefly scan the table before coming to a decision. "Terry, Holmes, Watson, you three go with Skinner; if Holmes's skills at disguise are anything like what I've heard, you should be able to blend in convincingly enough, and you might need Terry's strength if things get ugly."

"Is that your power?" I inquired, looking curiously over at the mysterious Terry Nator; of all of our new allies, he was the one whose origins and nature of his powers remained a mystery to both of us. "Enhanced physical abilities?"

"Among other things," Mr Nator replied, as he looked over at me with an almost worryingly neutral gaze.

For a moment, I simply sat and waited for him to elaborate on that, but when no explanation came from the League's most enigmatic member, I decided not to press the issue. If it was relevant to the issue at hand, I had no doubt that Mr Nator would have told me more about his powers; as it was, if he wished to keep his origins and history to himself, I would not pressure him to reveal more than he was comfortable with.


End file.
